


Prodigal

by justverynosy



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Bat Family, Bruce Wayne is Dead, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Post-Movie 3: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-23 21:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13199016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justverynosy/pseuds/justverynosy
Summary: Immediately after the events of TDKR, John Blake must take up the legacy of the Batman but he's not nearly ready for that. He is sent from Gotham to train with a group known as the Order of the Tranquil Sun, the spiritual antithesis of the League of Shadows.In his absence, the mysterious Penguin floods Gotham's underworld with weapons to turn a profit and the extremely wealthy Oswald Chesterfield reinvigorates the high society scene of the city. The bad old days are coming back and something drastic needs to be done to save this city.John must become more than Batman if he is to honour the symbol.





	1. Leaving Gotham

**Author's Note:**

> I will take some liberties with some beloved comic characters e.g. shuffling backstories, combining characters, etc. so if you think to yourself "that definitely isn't how Oracle got to be in a wheelchair" you're definitely right.
> 
> Do note that for the purposes of this fiction, Bruce Wayne really did go kamikaze at the end of TDKR.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John departs Gotham and arrives at the Order of the Tranquil Sun.

 

 

“ _The real Way of a Warrior...is the_ _Art_ _of_ _Peace_ _, the_ _power_ _of_ _love_ _.”_ _\- O-Sensei_

 

John Blake stepped off the stone platform and onto a steel walkway. Where moments ago it had been pitch black, strip lighting now illuminated his path. As he moved cautiously forward, lights flicked to life all around him and brought into stark relief an amalgamation of high technology and rough earth. To his surprise, someone was sat at the bank of huge screens at the walkway's end. They didn't look up at his approach, and instead continued to diligently sort through a stack of folders. “I was wondering when you'd turn up,” Lucius Fox's assuring tone stopped John in his tracks. Lucius looked over his shoulder and smiled at John, “Don't do that, come closer, we've got work to do.” John did as he was told and strode more boldly until he was by Fox's side.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Blake. Do you remember who I am?” Lucius didn't stand, he tapped away at a keyboard as he spoke.

“I seen ya on the news enough, Mr Fox,” John replied.

“And since you've found me here, you know I'm more than the late Mr Wayne's CEO?” asked Lucius.

“Ya helped the Batman, right?” John leaned against the counter as he spoke.

“Yes John, and I'm going to help you. Bruce chose you as his successor, he let you find the Bat Cave...” Lucius stood at last and indicated for John to follow. He led him up a set of stairs onto a mezzanine floor, strip lights winked into life as they passed. The floods of the mezzanine bathed them and John saw that in a case at its centre stood the Bat-Suit. There was far more up here but John's vision narrowed to this totem of his childhood.

John found himself drawn to it. He pressed a hand to the glass and felt something immense answer his touch. Ever since Bruce had died, the only thing anyone had to remember the Batman by was his statue. Yet here, now, John was inches away from the most enduring symbol of the man's greatness. “Quite the sight, isn't it?” said Lucius, smiling kindly.

“Beautiful,” breathed John, barely above a whisper, entranced.

“The Batman was a wraith, feared by criminals, deified by the helpless, and he preyed on primal fear to wrong foot his enemies. You're not ready for the Suit, you're not him,” Lucius' hand came to rest on John's shoulder.

“I'll never be him, I saw how he moved,” John knew it wasn't a smart response.

“You can't be Bruce but you can _learn_ to be Batman. Bruce wasn't born like that; he was taught by the League of Shadows. Obviously you can't go and ask the League for reasons that are self-evident. But I've got the next best thing: a teacher,” Lucius placed something in John's hand. Blake looked down to see an airline ticket. “You leave tomorrow evening. You're going to Japan.”

 

*   *   *

 

He had all but floated out of the Bat-Cave back to west Gotham. When he was on home turf, fighting with the faulty door to his shitty apartment block, reality returned to him as a mean headache. There under a gloomy night sky in the spitting rain, John Blake didn't feel like he was supposed to be a hero. The door finally popped open and John stumbled inside like he had every day for six years. As he climbed the three storeys to his apartment, the elevator was for suicidal people, the headache only got worse.

His apartment's door opened without the struggle of the building's railed entrance door. He slumped on the couch and let his head loll to the left, to watch the rain grow heavier. John was tired and afraid, the adrenaline kick of Lucius Fox telling him he was Batman's heir had worn off. Sure he had saved a bunch of kids on a school bus and fought the League of Shadows in the dirty streets of a frightened city but could he face a Joker? A Bane? A Ra's al-Ghul? Fuck, could he even face a Victor Zsasz? Well, he'd never know if he didn't try.

He needed to get packing tonight. John picked himself up off the couch and went around upending his worldly possessions onto his bed. He wished he'd had more to show for his six years of independence and 24 years of life but how much could a lone orphan really have? What he had he was proud of but he had still managed to fit his life onto a single bed. John hauled a huge suitcase from under his bed and got to playing soft Tetris with his belongings, trying to fit everything into the case, a duffel from his closet, and the sports bag he had taken to the Bat-Cave.

In the end he had to sit on top of the suitcase to zip it. He checked his phone – it was 2am. He had planned to call Commissioner Gordon but it was far too late for that. He composed a text. _Mr Fox gave me a ticket to Japan for tomorrow. Going to train. Can you square my absence at the precinct?_

John hiked the suitcase off his bed and dropped it next to the other bags. He toed off his shoes and then slung his clothes on the ground, he'd shower in the morning. He slid into bed and was out the moment his head hit the pillow.

He woke to the blare of his alarm which he slapped into silence. His phone flashed so he unlocked it and saw a single text.

_JIM GORDON: Yes. I don't know if you're brave or a fool. But I never knew with him either._

 

*   *   *

 

The flight from Gotham International to Tokyo Haneda passed as a blur for John, he slept through most of the journey. Once he'd reclaimed his luggage at Haneda, he searched the crowd at Arrivals for anyone that could help him find out where the hell he was headed. A red-haired man with the sort of jawline you only saw in old noir thrillers appeared seemingly from nowhere next to John. He had the collar of his long camel coat raised in a clandestine way. “Are ya Robin Blake?” he asked, his voice too was reminiscent of a 1930s private eye.

John managed to not be startled out of his skin, then answered, “I prefer John.” 

“Well nice to meet ya John, name's Vic Sage,” Vic offered his hand, John shook it and felt the firmest grip since meeting Bruce Wayne, “Let's hurry, I shouldn't actually have left my car where it's parked...”

They walked together out to Vic's car, unattended in a taxi bay. Vic's car was out of time like the man himself; a slick 70s muscle mobile you'd probably catch on Miami Vice. Vic helped John load his bags into the boot and the pair hopped in; they didn't speak on the walk or as the drive began. John watched Vic, trying to get a handle on the man.

“You often get into cars with strangers just because they know your name?” Vic breached the silence.

“Weirder things happen in Gotham all the time,” chuckled John.

“Oh yeah, you people have had some _shitty_ luck these last ten years. Property prices must always be rock bottom, I bet I could buy city hall for eight bucks and a pack of Reece's Pieces,” Vic smirked as he spoke, or maybe his resting face was a kind of wry scowl.

“So where are ya from Vic? And where are we headed?” asked John. He took in the neon energy of Tokyo as they drove past its tempting shopfronts; he had lived all his life in a city, John loved how each of your senses became engrossed taking in the feel of new one. He hoped they might make a few trips back here.

 

“Hub City, it's a goddamn mess there too, I'm glad ya want to be the Batman. The world needs more heroes. We're going to see my teachers at a cute mountainside dojo, so I hope ya like hiking,” Vic replied.

 

* * *

 

They'd kept driving further into the highlands around Tokyo until forced to park up in Tabayama, a little village surrounded by lush mountains. Vic hadn't been kidding about the hike; John was grateful that Sage had elected to carry the suitcase _on his back_ like a madman. After that, it had been a near vertical trek through sloping forests in the dark, as Vic and John had shared anecdotes about life in two of the worst places to live in the world. Vic hadn't exaggerated how much of a nightmare Hub City was. What it lacked in supervillains it more than matched the old Gotham for corruption.

John stopped to catch his breath, he caught sight of Tabayama's lights some miles off in the valley below. “So how much further is it?” he panted. He didn't want to sound like a bitch but if the walk to the dojo was this hard, training would kill him. Vic gave no answer and instead patted him on the shoulder as if to say 'get moving'. John nodded and did just that. Another mile passed, they came to a poorly trodden dirt track that took them up for another quarter mile until a tall wooden wall stopped them.

“This is it, Tabayama-dera ,” announced Vic solemnly. He put down the case he carried for John and knocked on the wall.

“Password?” came a disembodied voice, deep and reverberant.

“Promise your bones will rest with mine,” Vic replied. Mechanical rattling signalled the steps slid out of the wall to form a staircase. The pair climbed the steps and found them mirrored on the other side. John really took in his surroundings once they were clear of the stairs. Standing torches lit the temple grounds, there were maybe six buildings from what he could tell in the low light. This was the Japan of storybooks and period dramas, all elaborate roofs and sliding doors.

Off to his left was a wheel crank that must operate the wall steps, a serious-looking, middle aged Japanese man leaned against the contraption. There wasn't anything around the man that could have made his voice do what he had heard over the wall. Vic went up and caught the wheel turner in a gruff hug, which brought an unexpectedly bright smile from him. They greeted each other in Japanese, John squirmed in his ignorance until he heard _John-san_.

“Welcome to Tabayama-dera, John-san, I am Master Jiro Osamu,” Jiro bowed, John bowed in kind.

“So...master? Are you my teacher?” John asked, as Jiro took the bags he carried away from him. Vic and Jiro walked off, in the direction of the nearest building, leaving John unanswered yet again,

John caught up with them as Vic opened the door for Jiro, “Well? Are ya gonna say anything?”

“No, John, I am not your teacher. I am a sei-kyoshi of the Order of the Tranquil Sun, I taught Victor, but I will not teach you. The Dragon and The Tiger wish to tutor you personally,” Jiro replied, they had gone through another door into a dormitory.

“Oh wow John, if the roshi _and_ dai-osho want to train ya personally, ya must be hot shit!” Vic seemed genuinely impressed. John had no idea what he'd just said.

“You're going to want to get a good night's sleep, John. The Dragon and The Tiger aren't light touches when it comes to breaking in novices,” Jiro added.

“How do I know when we start?” John sat down on a simple bottom bunk, his bags by his feet, “And where is everybody?”

“Oh, you'll know...and they're meditating in the  _kon-do_ before bed. Which is where I'd be if I hadn't had to come get you,” offered Vic.

“Good night, John, sleep well. Tomorrow, we make you a warrior of the infinite light,” Jiro threw back as he and Vic left John alone. Alone, in a strange place, about to try and become a ninja all because of a man he had met fewer times than the hot dog guy outside the precinct he used to work.

 


	2. Simple Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John runs into an unexpected number of Gothamites at the temple and the Tiger begins to train him in meditation.

 

“ _Let thy step be slow and steady, that thou stumble not” - Tokugawa Ieyasu_

 

A bell clanged and John tumbled out of bed, a belfry wasn't an alarm clock he could slap into silence. The swift, muffled feet of his fellow students hurried past him. One pair stopped and came back towards John, he looked up to see a blonde girl staring down at him. "Newbie, huh? Initiate? Here let me help you, I'm Steph, I'm a novice," she held out her hand for the clumsy cop.

"Yeah, thanks, I'm John...what time is it? Where'd everyone go?" John asked as he was hauled up, barely awake. He studied Steph as she spoke. Steph's features were small, soft, she was definitely younger than John, her eyes a warm blue, and her figure petite. He would have said he couldn't imagine her kicking anybody's ass but he had seen what Catwoman could do.

"It's 6am, they're all stretching outside before they go for a run around the temple grounds, everybody does it. Afterwards you eat, do what you gotta do in the bathrooms, which I'll warn you are communal, and then it's a full day of training and study," Steph explained as they joined the other novices outside. John felt exposed doing stretches in his pyjamas around a bunch of strangers. The others wore keikogi and jika-tabi. He really hoped someone gave him shoes before this morning run.

There were thirty white-belted initiates and novices stretching with him by the veranda. Further along, the twelve black belted disciples stretched, and then furthest from him were six masters in hakama. He noticed that two men in black robes watched them, one was an older white man and the other an older black man. Someone called something in Japanese, John really was going to have to pick that up, and they were all off at a jog. He took his eyes off whom he assumed must be The Dragon and The Tiger for only a moment, when he looked back they were gone.

He sat in the refectory, perched on the end of a bench next to Steph, picking pebbles off his heels. "Yeah no one wakes actually wakes up _with_ the bell. We all get up before and get ready. Don't worry though, we all did that our first day," Stephanie explained between alternating mouthfuls of rice and miso soup.

John turned his attention to his own wooden tray of steamed rice, miso soup, and natto under a fried egg. He wasn't sure what natto was but it resembled refried beans so he thought he'd chance it. They had been served by Shingon Buddhist monks, the other inhabitants of the temple. The dining hall was a big room populated by rows of long, low tables, long benches, and a serving area where the monks doled out food from a hidden kitchen. “So where are you from Steph?” John asked, he was a natural with chopsticks, thanks to plenty of time at the Chinese joint by his old precinct.

“Gotham, you?” Steph threw out casually.

“Really?” John almost choked on his miso, “Where in Gotham ya from?”

“The Palisades, plenty of us are from Gotham. Gavin here is, aren't you?” Steph indicated a novice opposite them, a young black man with cornrows.

“Yeah, left to be a dancer, wasn't there when Bane turned the place into a war zone,” Gavin replied just as nonchalantly, “Take it you were?”

“I used to be a cop, I was right there in the middle of all that shit...I even helped out Batman,” John always felt proud when he said that. He felt like he was ten years old again and showing off a prize baseball card.

“Why do you suppose they take in so many Gothamites?” mused Sophie, somehow still chatting around huge mouthfuls, “Charlie and Damian are too.”

“City's been sick for a long time...” said John, brows furrowing, tone pensive.

“Ain't that the truth! Batman was the best thing to happen to Gotham,” agreed Gavin eagerly, slurping down the last of his soup.

A very light pressure let John know someone was behind him. He was getting a little sick of how everybody here moved without making a damn sound. He turned, ready to cuss out whoever had sneaked up on him this time. The vitriol died in his throat when he saw that the older black man from earlier was the interloper, a closed fan pressed to John's shoulder; his dining companions bowed their heads and muttered _ohayō gozaimasu dai-_ _osho_. He got the hint and bowed too. From this close, John had no idea of the man's age, he could be anywhere from 40 to 60. He was immensely broad, his expression impossibly stern, and his shaved head gave off a dull shine.

"I will be in charge of your training today, John _-san_ ," his voice was deep and rich, the same one that had spoken over the walls yesterday, "Meet me in the shinobi-do after you have eaten." Everyone kept their heads bowed as the man left the dining hall, no one dared look up until he was gone.

"Holy shit! The Tiger is training you personally on your _first day_!" Steph lost the cool she had managed thus far, splashing food as she did. John could feel the whole hall gossiping about the exchange.

 

* * *

 

John hurried from the refectory to dormitory, travelling from the east of the compound to its centre. The building was three storeys high, it housed the initiates, novices, and disciples; the masters and monks had their own quarters elsewhere in the temple. He passed gently smiling monks, his feet aching from going barefoot all morning, bowing like a bobble-head because he just didn't grasp the etiquette. He quickly ascended the low steps onto the decking of the dormitory. John searched through the bunk beds on the bottom floor and found his bunk. Neatly folded on his were keikogi and jika-tabi. John threw off his vest and slid off his joggers.

“You really oughta go and shower while you got some privacy,” it was a voice like his, rough, from a bad part of Gotham, and it came from behind him. There was a stranger from Gotham behind him and he was naked, with his pants around his ankles.

“Right about now you're thinkin', 'How do I cover myself up without making it too big a deal?' Yeah I bet ya are...” the voice laughed, John remained stock still, “It's cool man, I seen a lot of naked ninjas this last year. I'll close my eyes, you can put some boxers on or somethin'.” John turned after a second and saw that on the top bunk of the bed behind him, a white guy was sat in lotus, a scroll laid down before him. John could swear the guy looked sort of like a young Bruce Wayne, but meaner somehow.

John opened up his suitcase, grabbed a pair of boxers, and slid them on; John could see the other man was holding in a laugh the whole time. “Okay, I'm decent!” called John as he pulled on his keikogi pants.

The man's eyes opened and he said, “I'm Damian Todd.” Where Steph's eyes had been a warm blue, Damian's were dark, the darkest John's had ever seen.

“I'm John Blake, nice to meet ya, Steph mentioned ya at breakfast...” John secured his belt over his tunic, “Why weren't you there by the way?”

“I get up at 5, I can't help it, get all the early morning stuff out the way,” Damian explained, unfolding his legs, drawing himself up into a crouch, and easily somersaulting to land gracefully in front of John. John couldn't keep the awe out of his features. “Gives me more time to meditate and practice.”

“Jeez, yeah, you seem pretty great at this!” he wanted to slap himself, he sounded like a bum.

“You'd be surprised how fast ya pick it up, they're pretty great teachers. Where ya headed?” Damian asked, kneeling down to retrieve something from under his bunk.

John rocked back onto his own bunk in order to wiggle his feet into the jika-tabi, “Seeing the Tiger for training.” Once he had righted himself, he saw that Damian had slipped on wicker sandals and stood not far from him with a curious look.

“The Tiger? On ya first day? Better make yaself presentable...Ya even cleaned your teeth yet?” Damian grinned, “If you can't smell nice, at least don't have bad breath.”

John felt himself blush. John Blake didn't blush. He turned away from Damian and retrieved his toothbrush from amongst his bags. “Okay, so where are the facilities?”

“Underneath the dormitory, this is a _really old_ temple, all the modern plumbing is set under the buildings. Come on, I'll show ya,” Damian had set off without John's response. The cop sprang from his bed and caught up to him.

 

* * *

 

There was a central staircase in the dormitory, the pair had taken the only set leading down. John appreciated the functional set up of the wash room. To the left of the staircase were 20 sinks and 20 bathroom stalls, to the right of the staircase were 30 showers.

“I assume I don't gotta brush your teeth for your too?” chuckled Damian, leaning against the sink next to the one John had chosen.

John realised he had forgotten toothpaste. He blushed. John Blake didn't blush. Damian was like the coolest kid in school and John felt the stupid urge to impress him. “Do ya have any toothpaste? ...I forgot."

Damian had the good grace to not laugh too loudly as he plucked a tube from a cup in the rail under the sinks. “Y'know I think we're from the same part of Gotham, John,” said Todd, passing over the tube.

“You want a conversation _right now_? As I try to put a brush in my mouth?” sighed John, squeezing the tube from the middle.

“Stop!” exclaimed Damian, “I can't even tell you how annoyed that'll make the monks. And they'll know it was you. They always know. For Buddhists they got some serious side eye goin' on.”

John sighed again and squeezed the tube from the end. “Yeah, I suppose we are from the same part of Gotham. Sounds like it at least.”

Damian stayed silent as John brushed his teeth. John glanced over, he saw that Todd had closed his eyes and working through a sequence of hand gestures – it was eerie. When he was done he looked back to see that Damian had opened his eyes and stopped gesturing.

“What were you doin' just then?” John eyed him suspiciously.

Damian explained, sighing gently, “ _Kuji-kiri_. They're these ways of holding ya hands together that help ya focus on a mantra. The roshi says that O-Sensei could move things without touching them and he did the _kuji-kiri_ every moment he got.”

“Oh, you're Buddhist too? Like the monks?” John felt his expression grow curious, “You looking to move things with your mind, eh?”

“Ah...we're all kinda Buddhist around here...and hey, we all wanted to be Jedi once, right?” the serenity that hung around Damian had dissipated, he grinned wide, “As much as I like you, John Blake, you should get over to the shinobi-do. Don't keep the Tiger waiting!”

John smiled, dropped his toothbrush into the cup Damian had used earlier, and jogged towards the stairs. He turned before he mounted them and called back, “See ya around, Damian Todd!”

 

* * *

 

The shinobi-do lay to the north of the dormitory, before the lecture hall, where the monks lived and learned. The building was three storeys high and flanked by a pair of two-storey pagodas. When John arrived he found the Tiger kneeling on the raised deck, his breathing slow and even, his eyes open but half-lidded. John approached the unmoving dai-osho, in a moment recognition flared in the senior ninja's expression. There was a lot of creepy meditating that John would have to get used to.

John bowed immediately and muttered, “ _O_ _hayō gozaimasu dai-_ _osho._ ”

The Tiger snorted and John looked up, “Your pronunciation is painful. You will improve. Follow me inside, John- _san._ ” The Tiger rose and slid open the the wooden panel that protected the delicate paper door before sliding that aside too. He advanced inside and John followed after, carefully closing what the dai-osho had opened.

The Tiger did not speak, he turned right and led John up a set of wide stairs against the eastern side. He remained silent as he turned and led John up yet another set of stairs. Once they had reached the second floor of the shinobi-do, the Tiger finally spoke. “Please, sit in the centre of the room.” John was eager to start this training, he felt like his whole life had been leading up to this, when he started down a meaningful path. He sat cross-legged, as if it was his first day of kindergarten and the teacher was yet to arrive. The Tiger did not immediately sit down opposite him. John knew that the dai-osho had to be somewhere behind him but he _could not_ _hear him move_.

After half a minute of obediently staring ahead, John gave in and looked behind him, the dai-osho wasn't there. He sighed and turned back. The Tiger was sat right in front of him, less than two feet away. John nearly toppled over in shock. Jesus, he'd never met anyone else who could pull a Batman like that.

“Close your eyes, John- _san._ ” John did as he was told.

“Breathe, deep and slow, from the diaphragm.” The surprise John felt before started to ebb.

“The cornerstone of Tabayama-ryu is clear mental awareness. The clarity of meditation _must_ be carried over into the world of action – spiritual refinement _must_ translate into absolute clarity of thought. You must learn to be aware of everything around you _without_ it being a distraction. Clear your mind, John- _san_. Clear it of everything but my voice.”

John concentrated. He focused on trying to think of nothing. It was impossible to think of nothing.

“Do not try to think of nothing. Do not aim for emptying. That will frustrate you. Take yourself somewhere calm. See this place and hear my voice.”

John stopped trying to do what he'd heard in hokey films about mystics.

_Na...mu...fu...ka..shi...gi...ko...nyo...rai..._

He did not try to empty his mind. He saw darkness.

_Na...mu...fu...ka..shi...gi...ko...nyo...rai..._

He saw strip lights. He knew he was on the walkway of the Bat Cave.

_Na...mu...fu...ka..shi...gi...ko...nyo...rai..._

 

* * *

 

“Open your eyes when you are ready, John- _san._ ” 

John opened his eyes. He felt like some power had drained five years of stress out of his body. There was a book between him and The Tiger.

“You managed an hour, John- _san_ , we will try for two tomorrow. For now, read the teachings of our O-Sensei, the founder. You may leave this floor when you have finished that book.” The Tiger rose and John bowed, still in a euphoric haze.

Only after the Tiger had left did John realise something. His first day of ninja training had involved sitting very still for an hour and now reading a hundred page book by himself. Well, if it was good enough for Batman, it was good enough for him.

 


End file.
